


You Weren't Myth-taken

by skiron



Category: Buffy the Vampire Slayer
Genre: Alternate Universe, F/F, F/M, Gen
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-03-29
Updated: 2013-03-29
Packaged: 2017-12-06 22:09:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,642
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/740690
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/skiron/pseuds/skiron
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Willow starts spending a lot of time in bookstores, and with a certain employee. When Buffy stumbles across a bull-headed demon, Willow's extracurricular research comes in handy.</p>
            </blockquote>





	You Weren't Myth-taken

**Author's Note:**

> Bookstore!AU for Willow and Tara, though it'll be pretty adventure/story driven after the first few chapters. Expect some playing around with Greek mythology.
> 
> Thanks to Bri and Rachel for looking this over!

Willow only wished the floor were more comfortable. _You would hope_ , she thought, turning the page of the large tome resting on her knees, _that a bookstore of all places would be somewhere where decent carpet was in order._ The surface below her felt more like someone had placed a layer of cheap cotton over concrete. _Which_ , she admitted silently as she examined the reproduction on this page with a careful eye, _is probably true_. She wouldn’t have even come to this place – a big-box bookstore, with its harsh lighting and giant sections titled ‘self-help’ or ‘memoir’ – if Giles hadn’t started closing the Magic Box on weekday afternoons to devote the time to training expeditions with Buffy. “You’ll just have to find something else to do,” he’d said when Willow had complained. “As it is you spend nearly every waking minute on witchcraft studies and research for us…you’d think you’d be happy for a break.” 

To her surprise, Giles had been right – at least for awhile. Willow had gone back to reading stories just for the pleasure of escaping to a world that wasn’t her own. She’d taken naps – a phenomenon she’d never understood before, no matter how many times Xander extolled their virtues – and learned to use her kitchen for cooking food rather than exclusively potions and spells. But after a couple of weeks of self-discovery, she had rediscovered what she already knew: that supernatural research and magic were those things she was most passionate about. And she was far from wanting a break. Even just spending those afternoons pursuing other activities made her regret missing out on whatever discoveries she could have been making at the Magic Box. 

The bookstore had been her best option – in smaller stores, where she was frequently the only customer, the owners either watched her carefully as if she was going to run off with a used copy of _To Kill a Mockingbird_ without paying or asked her constantly if she needed help. She had taken a couple up on their offers, until she realized that even in areas of the occult she knew next to nothing about, her instincts were better than any advice they could give. The big box store may have had its disadvantages – _see: carpet and lighting_ , she thought mournfully – but at least if she left without buying anything it wouldn’t earn her a dirty look from any of the teenagers and college students behind the counter. 

“Make sure you get the twentieth anniversary copies from Wesley,” someone was saying now, and Willow glanced up to see a girl around her age calling over her shoulder as she entered the aisle with a cart full of brand new books. “He’s likely to forget if you don’t remind him and we have three hundred of them coming in!” 

Willow hastily scrambled up from the floor and closed her book; she guessed sitting in the store and reading the wares rather than buying them would be frowned upon by an employee. The newcomer was taller than her, with honey-colored hair that she had wound up into a knot held with a pencil, a trick Willow had never really mastered. She was humming softly to herself as she came down the aisle, a grey-blue prairie skirt hanging from her round hips and swishing at her ankles as she walked. 

“Oh, hello,” said the girl, noticing Willow standing in the middle of the aisle with her book. “ _Eighteenth- and Nineteenth-Century Neoclassical Works_ ,” she read off the spine, tilting her head to one side. “Nice choice. Give me a good David print and I’m gone: ideal human forms all over the place. I mean, did he really expect us to believe that Marat looked like that?” She must have seen the surprise in Willow’s face and mistook it for negative judgment because she cut herself off quickly and added, “I mean, um, I really like art. Hi, I’m Tara.” She held out a hand and Willow noticed a gold name badge on her chest for the first time that confirmed this fact, and gave her title as assistant manager. 

“Willow,” she said, taking the offered hand and shaking it; it was soft but surprisingly strong. “I’m not really reading it for the art itself more for what it says about the mythology and how sterilized the classics became when they re-adopted them – not,” she added hastily, “that I’m really reading it just um, glancing, trying to decide if I’ll bring it home, you know.” She stopped; any more babbling she did would only hurt her cause and she knew it. What’s more, she realized she was still holding the other girl’s hand and dropped it quickly, hoping Tara hadn’t noticed. But the other girl just grinned, and as she did Willow noticed that when she smiled, one end of her mouth went higher than the other.

“Willow,” said Tara, and it sounded as if she were tasting the word more than saying it. “That’s a pretty name. So are you going to buy that book or do I have to report you to my manager?”

***

“I think you terrified her,” a crisp voice said as Tara was closing up her register.

“I didn’t mean to,” she replied without looking up from counting the cash in the till. “I was trying to make a joke…something I’m clearly not very good at. Do you think she was actually totally weirded out by it?”

“Oh -- no, I was only joking! You were fine. She did seem sort of nervous but I’m sure it wasn’t because of you.” Tara looked up to see her manager Wesley leaning against the doorframe of the break room. “Honestly,” he assured her holding up his hands as if to emphasize his sincerity before folding them across his chest.

“Oh,” Tara said quietly; she couldn’t decide if that was bad or good. After a few moments, she went back to counting out five dollar bills. 

“Terrifying her isn’t a bad thing anyway. On the contrary; you made a sale!” Wesley unfolded his arms and clapped in enthusiasm, and Tara couldn’t help but smile.

“If it’s all the same to you, Mr. Wyndam-Pryce, I’d rather not have to bully people into buying books.”

“Well, Ms. Maclay,” he replied in an overly formal voice. “Why else do you think I hired you if not for your intimidating nature?”

“Wes, please. It’s too early for you.”

“It’s two in the afternoon.”

“Yeah, and I’m only just now getting to go on lunch break. Besides, it’s always too early for you.”

***

“So you just bought it and left?” 

It was nearly four. What with Buffy still training and Dawn at diving practice for another hour yet, Willow had decided to visit Xander and Anya rather than going home to an empty house. The former vengeance demon was laying out ingredients for cookies, while Xander for his part looked on from across the table, occasionally stealing a chocolate chip when Anya’s back was turned. 

“Well yeah,” Willow said in reply to Xander’s question. “I didn’t know what else to do – was that bad?”

“I don’t think it was a threat. It sounds to me like she was flirting,” Anya answered matter-of-factly, pulling a bag of flour from the cupboard. Xander nearly choked on the chocolate in his mouth. He put a fist over his chest, coughing violently. Willow just felt confused.

“Like, flirting-flirting? With _me?_ ” She paused, furrowing her eyebrows. “But why?”

Anya sighed heavily. “Why does any mortal flirt? Because she thinks you’re cute. She wants some of that Willow action.”

“I’ve got about as much ‘action’ as a potato.” Willow swiped a handful of chocolate chips off the counter.

“Think what you want,” Anya said with a shrug. “ _I_ think she was flirting.” 

“But even if she were,” Xander put in, having recovered from nearly inhaling a chocolate chip, “Willow wouldn’t be interested, right? So what else should she have done?”

“What makes you think she wasn’t interested?” Anya said irritably, smacking Xander’s hand away from the diminishing pile of chocolate. “That seems like a big assumption. In my experience, mortals are always trying to get into each other’s pants. And I’ve been dealing with the results a _very_ long time.”

“Yeah, but Will’s not – I mean – are you? You’re…I thought you liked guys?”

Anya rolled her eyes at her fiancé’s sputtering. “I believe what my lovely partner is trying to ask is whether you’re only interested in men. I know I am. It’s just something about their bodies, arms and flat chests…and penises are useful too. Of course not all men have penises, only the male ones.”

“Uh, An, honey, I’d rather you not extol the virtues of male anatomy right now.” 

“Why not? You have a perfectly good penis yourself.” 

“Anya! Willow doesn’t want to hear –”

“Oh surely she knows we have sex. You don’t mind, do you?” She added. Willow, who had actually been grateful for the change of subject, shook her head. “See? Willow’s fine.” Xander gave up. “Besides,” Anya continued, now pulling an electric mixer out from a cupboard under the kitchen counter, “do you expect me to believe you two’ve been friends for over a decade and she hasn’t seen you naked? Considering how often you forget to put on pants I’d be surprised.” Xander sighed resignedly as Anya looked at Willow for confirmation.

“Back when we were ten,” she said, suddenly just as uncomfortable with this subject as she’d been with Xander’s attempted question. “We were camping.” 

“See?” Anya said pointedly to Xander, apparently satisfied with Willow’s answer. “Now shut up a minute I need to—” she consulted an index card on the counter in front of her “—cream the butter and sugars.”

Willow wasn’t sure if she or Xander was happier to have the conversation dropped.


End file.
